XMen: Reboot
by Peter D
Summary: Imagine if there was no Cerebro... This is my version of the X-Men franchise. No space operas. No parallel dimensions. Just a story of people who have abilities that make them stand out from the crowd... and the prices that they have to pay...
1. Chapter 1: Desperate Measures

**Chapter 1: Desperate Measures**

The crate was heavy but that wasn't what was bothering him. He carried it inside from the back of the truck and headed toward the back of the warehouse where his brother Mikhail stood examining similar crates stacked one on top of the other against the back wall. He put down the crate and stood, hands in the pockets of his fur-lined coat beside his brother as their comrades continued with the transfer of the goods. They were both big men and their bulk suggested years spent serving in the military. It was ironic how they were now working against the government that they had spent most of their adult lives protecting. Mikhail popped open one of the crates with a crowbar, revealing a stack of unassembled combat rifles. As he put one together, he said in Russian, "What is it now, Piotr?"

Piotr frowned. "This is not right, Mikhail There has to be another way... an honest way..."

Mikhail rammed the stock into the barrel and said through gritted teeth, "We've tried, damn it! We've tried a thousand times! And we never get what we need. It is always Illyana who suffers. Always! Never again, Piotr, never again..."

He was shaking. Piotr reached out and grasped his arm but Mikhail shook him off and examined the finished product. Piotr let it go and walked away... back to the truck... to help finish the transfer. He stopped by the door to let two of their crew back inside struggling with a crate between them. He peered outside and frowned. He could just make out the silhouettes of a sedan and two canopied trucks making their way towards him through the swirling snow.

"Mikhail! They are here!"

"Welcome them in then, brother!"

Mikhail stepped outside and walked towards the sedan. A stranger stepped out of the front of the car and stood before him, blocking his path and looked pointedly at Piotr's hidden hands. Piotr could have taken him out with a single blow, no problem but he had a feeling that it'd make a lousy first impression. So he pulled his hands out of his pockets and raised them palms outwards. The man nodded and walked back to the car to open the rear door. A relatively taller man stepped out and even though he barely reached Piotr's chin, Piotr had a feeling that this man was dangerous. There was a kind of energy that crackled around him, completely at odds with his composed and laid back persona.

"You are not Mikhail Rasputin." He spoke in a drawl with a thick French accent.

"He is inside with the shipment." Piotr turned on his heel and led the way.

Inside, Mikhail came forward to meet them. He tossed the rifle at the Frenchman who caught it and examined it. "Le Beau, my end of the bargain is done. It is time for you to uphold yours."

"Fine quality... and a steal at the price you're accepting."

"Where's the money, Le Beau?"

"You will get it, mon ami, have no fear. I have some... er... private business that needs to be settled with you..." He looked Piotr over. "...and your brother."

"I do not wish to linger here longer than necessary."

"It won't take long." Le Beau gestured for his en tray to leave.

Mikhail was looking at Le Beau strangely, sizing him up. After a moment he nodded and ordered the rest out.

"Make it fast."

Le Beau smiled and reached into his pocket. In one swift motion, Piotr closed the distance between them and slammed the Frenchman into the wall.

"Relax, mon ami." He drew a business card.

Piotr looked over at his brother who gave a slight nod. He let the Frenchman go and stepped back. Le Beau smiled, "You are very strong, Piotr."

"The understatement of the century." Mikhail snorted. "You have another client?" Piotr could tell that Mikhail was still trying to figure out the Frenchman's agenda.

"A very powerful one with a lot of connections..." He held out the card.

"Professor Charles Xavier." Mikhail read. "The Xavier Institute For Gifted Youngsters. Westchester, New York." He looked up. "What the hell is this?"

"We know about your sister." Le Beau suddenly became serious. "Xavier wants to help. He's offering to provide the funds for her treatment and he is willing to house you in America if you wish it."

Piotr felt as if he had been slapped in the face and he faintly registered Mikhail's surprise.

Mikhail gathered himself together. "The only funds that we need will be the ones that you will be providing us with."

"We both know that that won't cover it. You don't even know what she's suffering from."

"Give us the money and we'll take care of our own affairs."

"No..." Piotr spoke up and both men looked at him. "We have tried Mikhail We cannot do this on our own."

He could tell that his brother was losing his self control. "She is our sister and our responsibility! Not theirs!"

Piotr turned to face the Frenchman. "We want to trust you but in this business..."

"I understand, mon ami. There's a phone number on the back of that card. Call it. Our business here is done." He called his men in and handed over a briefcase to Piotr who took it without a word and headed back outside. Mikhail caught up with him in the snow, spun him around and floored him with a hay-maker. "How could you involve her in this, you bastard?"

"She's my sister as much as yours."

"Go to hell." Mikhail stormed off toward the truck leaving Piotr in the snow with a split lip and an aching heart. He suddenly realized that Le Beau was standing next to him with his arm held out. Piotr ignored it and stood up.

"Your brother has a temper, mon ami."

"The understatement of the century..."

Le Beau smiled. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way and Piotr assumed that he was very popular with the ladies.

"I must go."

Le Beau nodded. "Xavier is a good man. He will look after you and your family. Here..."

He was holding out another card... and Piotr took it.

Scott glanced at his watch. He was ten minutes early. The hollow roar that filled the underground tunnel was muffled by the sound of a train screeching to a stop. Late commuters rushed forward. In the hubbub he sensed a man emerge from the throng and stand by his side. "Cool shades."

"I know why you're here, Alex."

"Good. Then you can leave and I can take the boy."

"He comes with me. That is what he wants."

"Do you really believe that? Xavier has ways of... persuading..."

"He does not abuse his ability... unlike you... and your boss."

Alex laughed. "You are so naive Scott."

"You're the one who's naive, Alex. Lensher's corrupted your mind. We do not need to resort to violence."

"Spare me the lecture, bro. Look at them." He gestured at the crowd. "Like a herd of cattle. They need to be ruled."

Scott shook his head. "How do you intend to do that if you've killed them all?"

"We don't need them. They fear us."

"They fear what they do not understand. If we show them..."

"We are showing them what we are capable of!"

"No Alex... you're showing them the havoc that you can cause."

"Are you forgetting what they did to you? And you're still defending them! Why?"

"These people did not do anything to me... and you destroyed the ones who actually did."

"You should be thankful."

"I'm ashamed... of you."

"Enough talk. The ball's in your court, Scott. What do you want to do? Fight your brother... or walk away."

"Someone needs to hammer some sense into you."

Alex grunted. "I could destroy all of them right now."

"You could... but not as long as I live."

Alex raised his hand toward the crowd. It started to glow red. "Go Scott."

"No." He grabbed Alex's hand and twisted it behind his back. "You go. And give Lensher my regards."

Alex elbowed him hard in the stomach and spun around as Scott let go and staggered back. "Bad choice, bro."

He rushed forward but Scott pivoted out of the way and sent him crashing to the floor by sweeping his feet off the ground. There was a whistle. Security.

"Leave Alex."

Alex rolled over and raised an arm. A beam of red light sizzled through the air and caught Scott high in the chest, blasting him into the air, over the heads of the now panicking crowd and right into the side of the train. Scott collapsed onto the platform, winded. He looked up and saw Alex raise one arm towards an oncoming security guard.

"No!" Whipping off his shades, he focused on Alex and he could feel the power surge through him. Two identical beams of red light seared from his eyes through the air and found their target. Alex was thrown backwards into a pillar. The guard stopped, shocked as all the bystanders hurried to get out of the vicinity. A heard of cattle. Scott wanted to laugh... and cry...

He put his glasses back on and stalked toward his brother who was slowly rising to his feet and dusting himself off.

"And here I thought that you didn't want to make a scene."

"If you're involved there's always a scene, Alex."

"I like to liven things up. What say we change the decor?"

"I like it as it is."

Alex shot two blasts at the ceiling between them causing pieces of concrete to fall on the people below. With deadly precision, Scott blasted all the large ones to dust before they could cause any harm and shot an extra one at Alex who leaped out of the way. The pillar behind him shattered like glass.

"Impressive."

"A pity I can't return the compliment."

"Then let me show you what I can really do."

"Don't be thick, Alex.

Alex raised both his arms and two identical beams off red light emanated from his palms. Scott tore off his shades and his own beams met those of his brother's in mid air. The place where they met swelled and Scott could feel the air heat up. They were alone in the subway now. He could tell that Alex was having trouble controlling his ability.

"Give up and walk away, Alex."

"Never."

Using all his strength Scott took a step forward, increasing the intensity of his beam. The swell slowly but steadily moved toward Alex.

"Last chance, Alex."

"To hell with you!"

Scott summoned all the willpower he possessed and suddenly Alex's beams seemed to give way and he went flying through the air where he crashed into the wall and sank to the floor unconscious beside a steel bench. Scott put his shades back on and shook his head sadly. Alex had always been stubborn and hot-headed but they had always gotten along when they were little. If their parents were still alive, things would have turned out differently. He sighed and walked up to the limp form. Using his optic beams, he weakened the metal of the bench and pulled it over the unconscious body, soldering it in place and effectively trapping him. A train pulled up to the pavement and Scott watched the astounded passengers stare at the mess. He walked towards the very last one to exit the train.

"Kurt Wagner?"

The hunched boy wrapped in a long cloak nodded, his face hidden beneath a large hood. "Yes."

Scott held out a hand. A three fingered hand in a five fingered glove grasped his. "Scott Summers. I teach at the institute. Let's get out of here."

"Ah yes... Professor Xavier told me to expect you." Wagner had a thick German accent. "Vot happened here?"

Scott glanced behind him. Alex was gone.

"I'll tell you on the way."

Minutes later, Scott ended the call and pocketed his cellphone.

"Vhy are these people after me?"

Eyes on the road, Scott expertly steered his red convertible through traffic. "They want to use your ability to create a world ruled by people like us."

"That is not right. This world is theirs as much as it is ours."

Scott smiled as they started climbing one end of a bridge. "Let's hope that they'll come to see it that way."

He glanced at his rear view mirror and froze. "Keep your head down, Kurt and brace yourself."

Accelerating, Scott changed lanes keeping the speeding motorcyclist in his sights. He watched it weave around several vehicles, gaining on them. He saw the hand rise... saw it glow red. Slamming down hard on the brakes, he struggled to control his car as Alex shot passed them. The car behind them blared its horn angrily and swerved to avoid a collision.

"Sorry Alex." One well placed optic blast sent the motorbike and its rider flying over the railing and into the water below.


	2. Chapter 2: Unstoppable

**Chapter 2: Unstoppable**

Ororo could tell that her friend was troubled. They had lived and worked together at the institute for the better part of a decade and Ororo had come to see her as a sister.

Jean looked up and smiled. "Hey, 'Ro."

Ororo couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. She sat beside her on the front steps and looked out at the sprawling lawns of the estate.

"Scott's not back yet?"

"No. He ran into Alex at the station. But he's okay. Bobby and John went out to make sure."

"Good."

"Yeah..."

"Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you guys okay? I mean, there seems to be a lot of tension between you two since Alex surfaced..."

"We're fine... It's just..." She turned and faced Ororo. "He's not opening up to me like he used to, you know? This thing with Alex is really eating him up inside... and he won't let me help him. He wants to tackle it alone."

"Male machismo?"

"No, it's more than that. I think he still feels responsible for Alex and he thinks it's his fault Alex turned out like he did."

"That's crazy."

"I know..."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"Yeah... but he just closes up... and it usually ends in a row..."

"He'll come to his senses, Jean. Don't worry. Men are like that. They'll try to do stuff all by themselves and then, when they realise that they've bitten off way more than they can chew, they'll come begging to us for help."

Jean smiled. "I know he'll come around eventually... I'm just so..."

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Are you still having those nightmares?"

Jean nodded. "It keeps getting worse. Now there's this overwhelming feeling of absolute loneliness. And then I... lose control."

"Could it have something to do with this distance between you and Scott?"

"No... I don't think so..." Ororo was suddenly alarmed at the fear that suddenly filled Jean's eyes. "I think it's a premonition..."

Ororo put an arm around her. She was trembling.

"Have you told The Professor?"

Jean nodded. "He's not sure himself. He wants to know if it progresses."

Ororo gave her a little squeeze and rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Whatever happens, Jean; I'm there for you. You know that, right?"

"Thanks, 'Ro."

They sat there in silence as dusk fell, turning the clouds pink and the grass a burnt shade of orange.

Two pairs of headlights appeared in the distance, growing larger as the sounds of carefully tuned engines escalated.

"That's them."

Ororo waited on the topmost step to greet the newcomer as Jean flew into the arms of the man she loved.

"Hi. Kurt, right?"

"Glad to make your acquaintance."

He lowered his hood. Dark hair covered his entire face and his yellow cat-like eyes glowed with excitement.

"Glad to have you. I hear that you've had a very eventful first day in America."

"It was... er... very memorable."

"I can imagine. The Professor would like to meet you. And then we'll get you settled in."

John walked passed her, carrying a bag.

"Yep, it's official: she prefers the hairy guys." He said in a very audible undertone.

Ororo elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow!"

Bobby joined them with his ever present grin. "Party in the hall tonight?"

Ororo smiled. "Definitely."

Kneeling by her bed, Piotr felt his heart break. It always did when he saw her pale, limp form lying there, unmoving save for the slow rising and falling of her chest. She was so small, so vulnerable and it hurt, knowing that there was nothing he could do to cure her. He fed her some more of his honey and herb concoction. It was her only sustenance. The only thing that kept her alive. He sighed. When the bowl was empty, he rose to his feet and stood there, gazing at the face that he loved more than any other. A face that had always had a smile for him... A sudden icy draft filled the room from the doorway behind him, bringing him back to the present. He tucked his little sister in, kissed her forehead and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The front door was open. Piotr made his way towards it, placing the bowl carefully in the sin.

Mikhail was sitting outside, on the steps leading to the porch, staring at the barn silhouetted by the full sickle-shaped moon a few feet away, a half empty beer bottle in his fist.

"How did we come to this, Piotr?"

Piotr said nothing from where he stood, leaning against the door frame. He knew his brother better than anyone and he understood this to be a rhetorical question.

"We have the money, Piotr... enough to admit her into the finest hospital in Russia... but these doctors cannot help her... will not help her..."

Piotr frowned. His brother was drunk. There would be no point in reasoning with him now. But then again, Mikhail was almost always drunk.

"This Professor Xavier... we could try... I mean, I know Le Beau cannot-"

"Le Beau! Do you think Le Beau understands what she is going through? Do you think Le Beau cares whether she lives or dies? No, dammit! How could you even suggest handing over our sister- our blood, to a jumped up-" He sputtered, got his breath back and finished with: "Are you mad, Piotr?"

Mikhail was on his feet, breathing heavily.

"What other choice do we have?"

Mikhail turned back towards the barn. He was shaking. "I don't know."

They stood there in total silence, covered in a blanket of despair. It was a while before Piotr realised something was wrong.

"Mikhail?"

"What?"

"It is too quiet..."

Mikhail looked at him with blood shot eyes. There were no owls hooting, no crickets chirping, nothing...

"Stay with Illyana."

Piotr nodded.

Mikhail walked out into the open. "Show yourself!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Piotr saw a shadow emerge from the bushes, hunched, bestial...

"Mikhail!"

Mikhail turned just as the beast launched itself at him, claws glinting in the moonlight. Piotr ran forwards to help as the pair crashed to the ground. There was a snarl and suddenly Mikhail's voice thundered, "Get back in the house!"

The air around them started to shimmer and Piotr knew what was going to happen. He clenched his fists, waiting for the inevitable, his skin rapidly changing its texture, reflecting the flashes of light emanating from his brother's body. The air heated up and suddenly there was a huge explosion. Piotr turned his eyes away and stood his ground against the massive shock-wave that followed. When he looked up, Mikhail was slowly rising to his feet, his clothes smoldering. The barn was on fire.

"What was it?" Piotr asked, staring at a heap that lay several feet away.

"I don't know... it was... almost human... Stay here."

He walked towards it.

"No!"

There was a snarl. Mikhail reeled backwards clutching at his face as his attacker stood, illuminated by the flickering flames from the barn. He was short and lean... and dangerous. Piotr charged. But the stranger didn't rush forward to meet him as he had anticipated. Instead, he dove to the side and made a run for the house.

Illyana.

By the time Piotr turned around his quarry was less than a yard from the porch. There was absolutely no chance of catching the bastard now.

There were hurried footsteps behind him . He whipped around.

"Le Beau?"

The Frenchman drew a card from one of the many pockets of his long coat and held it up. The ace of spades. Piotr stared at it as it started to vibrate. It suddenly flew from his fingers as if it had a will of its own. Piotr spun around, following its trajectory. The card collided with its target and exploded, flinging it away from the house so violently that it bounced several times when it hit the ground before lying still.

"You must hurry."

"You... you are like us?"

"Certainnement. I saw that thing tail you from the warehouse. It's after your sister."

"It's dead now."

"It has regenerative abilities." Le Beau explained. He handed Piotr two keys. "Get your sister and take my car to the airport. There's a plane leaving for Moscow in an hour. I will make sure that someone finds you there. Open locker C18. You will find all the necessary documents that you will need to get to New York. Here..." He handed Piotr a wad of money. "Take it."

Piotr grasped Le Beau's hand. "Thank you... my friend... but-"

Le Beau smiled. "I will take care of your brother. Now go."


	3. Chapter 3: Lost

**Chapter 3: Lost**

Logan groaned and rolled over, one hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the overhead streetlight. A very ripe stench increased the dull ache that refused to go away from the back of his head. He was lying in the middle of a deserted alleyway. He stood up slowly and staggered toward the distant sounds of passing cars. He leaned against a wall and squinted across the street. The green neon lights seemed to burn the words "Bar & Rest" into the back of his eyeballs. He searched his pocket and found a half-empty pack of cigarettes, a box of matches and a single twenty dollar bill. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, letting the smoke slowly out of his nostrils. Unfortunately, it did nothing to dampen the incessant pain.

He crossed the road and entered the bar. No-one paid him any mind. He saw an empty stool right at the end of the bar, away from the two crowded pool tables and made his way towards it.

"Budweiser." He grunted at the bartender, a very large man with a prominent stomach.

A waft of very cheap perfume reached his nose, heralding the arrival of a very young woman in a very provocative black dress.

There was a long, awkward silence.

"Hi."

Logan sipped his beer in silence. He wasn't in the mood.

"My name's Sandy. Wanna show me a good time?"

He could see her reflection in the grimy window behind the bar. Sandy. It fit. She had light brown hair that curled at her shoulders and large brown eyes that were fixed on him from under green tinted eyelids. The smile upon her large bright red lips faltered as he took another sip from his bottle.

After a few moments she turned and left, her eyes smoldering.

He drained his bottle and tossed the twenty on the the bar.

"Vot is this?"

Logan looked up. The bartender was staring at the note. Logan glanced at it and then fixed the bartender with a cold stare. His head hurt so bad.

The bartender avoided his eyes. "I do not want your stinking foreign money."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you trying to cheat me?"

Half a dozen large men had boxed him in. One of them cracked his knuckles menacingly. Logan was already in a foul mood. He snatched up the note and stood, yearning for a fight. The bartender grabbed his collar. Logan could see Sandy watching eagerly from the other side of the bar.

"Bad move, bub."

He reached back and grabbed the bartender's wrist. There was a sickening snap and the bartender reeled backwards, yelling in pain. Logan ducked under a hay-maker and tackled the guy closest to him, slamming him against the wall. He spun around, blocked a punch and delivered his own, breaking his attacker's jaw and sending him crashing into one of the pool tables. Two of them rushed at him simultaneously, fists raised. Logan stepped forward to meet them. He rammed his knee into the first one's abdomen and flung him aside. Then he caught a hastily thrown punch and sent a right hook at the second one's face. He felt bone shatter beneath his knuckles and welcomed the adrenalin that flowed through him. The two left standing seemed unsure of themselves and backed away. There was a whoosh behind him. Logan spun around, quick as a cat. But he wasn't quick enough. The man he had tackled sunk a switchblade right into his chest. Logan staggered back and yanked it out with a snarl. His fingers glistening with his own blood.

"That all you got?"

He stepped forward and floored the dumbfounded man with an uppercut. The pain in his chest faded slowly and he could feel the wound heal.

He showed the bewildered bartender the twenty. "I'll keep this... buy myself another shirt."

A heavy silence blanketed the room. His headache was getting worse. A sudden feeling of suffocation threatened to overwhelm him. Without looking back, he walked unhurriedly toward the door. When he reached the table Sandy was working, he stopped and grinned at her.

"How 'bout I take you up on that offer, doll?"

He laughed when he saw her eyes widen with fear and exited, acutely aware of the pain at the back of his head. He stopped in the middle of the pavement and leaned against a wall, his surroundings spinning before him. Where the hell was he?

And then the darkness took him.

Scott ran, feeling helpless and desperate and... alone. He did not know where he was or where he was headed. Every turn he took yielded the same deserted street with the abandoned cars and an eerie oppressive silence. He could feel an unstoppable force building up within him, no matter how he tried to suppress it. He stopped as the force peaked, knowing that everything he loved would be destroyed if he lost the little control that he had over it. The power surged through his limbs, searching for the conduit to the outside world that he refused to provide. His whole being ached, his body and his mind both pleading for him to release it. The pulsing pain rose until it became so unbearable that he screamed as, with a sense of both relief and shame he let it go.

But he wasn't the only one screaming.

He was lying in their bed with Jean sitting up, panting beside him. The sweat that had broken out on her skin caused the thin material of her shift to cling to her body. He reached out and pulled her gently into a hug and held her as she wept, aware of the rapid thudding of his own heart.

"I felt it this time."

Jean looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Scott described the nightmare to her.

When he was done, he saw the worry in her eyes. He gave her a comforting squeeze.

"I think you must have subconsciously shared your dream with me."

"I don't think it's a dream, Scott."

"What else could it be?"

"A vision... a premonition..."

"Do-"

"I know that you don't believe in that stuff, Scott... but the future is what it is."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"We can't change it. What is meant to happen will happen."

"The future depends on which choices we make in the present. The possibilities are endless."

"But in the end there is only one outcome."

Scott smiled. "I should have known better than to argue with you."

Jean laughed and kissed him. "Haven't you learnt? I'm always right."

Scott grinned and gave her another squeeze.

"You should have warned me before I married you."

Jean smiled.

Unable to fall asleep, they laid in each others' arms, both lost in thought.


End file.
